


So Uncool

by Rapterkitten



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Drabble, Gen, This is really shitty because i did it at like 3 in the morning so, really ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:43:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4124443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rapterkitten/pseuds/Rapterkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soul says Maka isn't cool. She asks while he thinks she's so uncool. <br/>He argues a little bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Uncool

**Author's Note:**

> First things first: I was bored at 3 in the morning and couldn't fall asleep, so I generated a random prompt from a prompt generator and got: 'Uncool'. This was quite literally all I could come up with. It doesn't make sense. It's very ooc. I really don't care.

“You're so _not_ cool.”

Maka lifts her eyes from the book in her hand at the phrase. Soul has said it many times before; brought the lacking of her 'cool'ness into perspective _many_ times. And though she had found it better to simply shake her head and laugh, or retort with a short and sweet ' _I know, Soul,_ ' and a curt half smile [ mostly smirk ], she can't help but wonder what's exactly caused the weapon to blurt out this little, all too familiar sentence.

“Mind telling me why?”

Oh, there's tons of things that could be his response. He seems to find the fact she buries her emerald irises into the words written on the alabaster pages of terrifyingly thick books one of the most 'uncool' things about her. Perhaps, seeing as how a copy of Les Miserables is currently resting upon her lap, his response will entail something of the sort.

Well.

Either that or something about her fat ankles.

Soul lets out a short noise- something between a grunt and a squeak. In all honestly it's quite a cute little noise. It reminds the bookworm of.. perhaps a mouse. Or a _rat_. Most likely the latter- which is almost cruelly fitting considering the pianist's albinism. The actions accompanying it fit well. His wrinkles his nose, twists his mouth down into an almost-scowl, pulls his shoulders up in the sleight of a defense position.

He's kind of cute. She feels bad comparing him to a rat. Much more of a mouse.

“I dunno.” Soul reaches up, hand coming to rest awkwardly on the back of his neck, fingers rubbing small circles into his skin. His head drops ever so slightly, white strands of hair falling down into his face at the movement. Scarlet irises glance away for a moment- before turning their gaze back as Evans attempts to blow the annoying strands from his face. “You just are.”

Maka's mouth quirks up into a smile, one eyebrow raising in a questioning expression. The nimble fingers slip a piece of paper in between the pages- closing the cover tightly as the meister stands, setting the hardcover book down on the couch where she once sat.

“So I'm uncool... just because?”

Soul's face goes red. It's an odd reaction. She hasn't said anything to embarrass him, has she? The smile widens, confusion evening out with amusement. Maka lets out a short, sweet laugh, taking the necessary steps to approach the albino, glancing up at him with that same smile. The weapon goes brighter as his meister gets closer; until he feels he may explode in his vehement blushing.

“I didn't say you were uncool.”

“You said I _wasn't_ cool though, didn't you?”

“Yeah.”

Maka gives a disapproving look, head cocking ever so slightly to the side.

“That means uncool, Soul.”

He shakes his head.

“Nah. It just means you're _not_ cool. But you're _not_ uncool.”

Maka is confused more than ever. And though she knows that, perhaps, she shouldn't press the subject; at the risk of confusing herself further and making Soul blush to the point his face may just match up to the color of that of a kishin's soul; She finds that, at the moment, she doesn't really care. It's too amusing not to press on, and it's far too tempting to just sit there and not argue.

“Not being cool equals being uncool.”

“ _Dammit_ Maka.”

The emerald irises flick wide at the use of a swear. It was that often the weapon swore; always bringing a surprise to the meister when he did so. She watches as he crosses his arms, flicks his head up and stares down at her, an over exaggerated pout placed upon her face.

“ _This_ is what makes you so _not_ cool.”

It takes a moment to register.

And then the meister laughs- and after a second, her weapon joins in as well.

 


End file.
